Gods of the Sand -- Hero of Time Chronicles
by iamthecriss
Summary: It's dangerous to go alone! Take this... Taking inspiration from Ocarina of Time, Majora's Mask, and Twilight Princess, this portion of the Hero of Time Chronicles follows Ganondorf, a young boy destined to be the next king of the desert Gerudo people, being shown what his people could've been when his ideals turn sour, craving the power of the Triforce more than anything else.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE.**

 _"In a time before time, there existed nothing. Not a soul. Not a single spec of land. When three beautiful goddess' of gold named Din, Nayru, and Farore emerged to create a new world. Hyrule."  
_  
Flying over the rolling green fields of an untouched and unnamed land, lush with greenery, are three shining goddesses, and because of their beauty and luminescent skin, they were blinding to the human eye. It was as if they didn't want to be seen, and if they wanted to be, they would become more of a bareable sight for the mortal souls they created. If they're seen, it's a highly regarded honour. And because of their almost indescribable appearance, they remained a mystery amongst the legends retold amist the people they created. Instead, they were identified by the colours they left hot on their trails – Din trailing a royal purple and representing power; Nayru trailing an earthly green and representing wisdom; and Farore a calming blue and representing courage. These three goddesses come from the sacred realm, a heavenly place those of only the most pure of heart would go to when their time came. Many had imagined what this place would look like through text or artwork but in regards to the artwork, temples were decorated with stained glass windows and paintings in which these temples would be used by the Hylians to pray to their creators.

As Din, Fayroye, and Nayru, sweep across the lush green fields accompanied by flowing rivers of a newfound land they would name Hyrule and would become the ruling capital of newly created world, they begin to create lands to complement this lavish green centre. Along with these lands they created, they fashioned five different people's to occupy them.

To the west they create a volcanic mountains spurting magma that flows down its treacherous heights – a rough terrain where at its core and almost suffocating. The people of this disruptive terrain, beast like men powerful in stature and strength, would produce the most beautiful rubies that would become the emblem of their society. These heavily muscled beast creatures are named Gorons and they continue to mine their precious stones, bottle magical spring waters from deep inside the mountain, and sell them at the Hyrule Village market. These magical spring waters were rumoured to cure the deadliest of ailments.

At the base of these mountainous platform is a small village, where its inhabitants, the Kakariko, a few and peaceful. It was said that these peaceful Kakariko folk felt the world very truly, only those who had been honed in their skills were magically inclined, and were very susceptible to sensing spirits in others as well as conjuring those of a distant memory.

Far to the north, the next place of travel for the golden goddesses, lay two forests – Ordon and Faron – that's connected to the central Hyrule Field. Ordon Forest is a common trading and festivity grounds for its peaceful fairy people. The forest is lush with ponds and creeks flowing between the large oak trees and paths that lead the way for travels so they don't become lost. One of these paths in the Ordonian Forest leads to the Great Deku Tree, and ancient oak tree larger than the others and guardian of the forests. As the trio of golden goddesses create this forest, three small children with elf like ears and dressed in green tunics, run up to the Great Deku Tree. These elf like Ordoanians lived in the heart of the forest, protected from the world by this great oak tree.

However, amongst the forest, is a small impish scarecrow-like creature, his unblinking eyes watching on with sadness. A curved witches hat covers most of his face so only his purple eyes can be seen. A glowing fairy bounces near him, a deep purple with white wings. Not too far away from this impish creature, shivering in fear. There's a glimpse of knowing in the impish creatures eyes with a flash of three golden triangles upon his hand, the right triangle amongst its collection of three. It was legend that those who strayed from the path are forever lost. One boy did and he takes those who wander, never to be seen again.

A small bridge connects Ordon and Faron over a dangerous crack in the earth in which a rough torrent of water would undercurrent it. This swift river lead to a lake district in the east that's full of waterfalls that spill across the landscape, feeding through the river feeding into Lake Hylia before travelling into a beautifully unexplored ocean that has always had disastrous consequences for those who traversed its waters, even those who were one with the water. After a certain point, that was clearly marked by those inclined to navigate the water, the currents of the ocean would pull unsuspecting victims into its voids.

These safer water like domains were aptly named after the creatures who lived there – Zora's Domain. Those that inhabited these flowing domains were fish-like creatures called Zora's that hold some kind of human resembalcnes save for their pointed elf-like features, blue pallour, a set of three gills on each side of their body alongside their ribcages, and fins extending from their forearms. Their eyes are entirely black and without eyelids. Depending on their rank, and often this feature was of their warrior clan, these Zora's had an elongated cone skull that extended behind them and acted as a guide for their movements in the water.

Despite however perfect these conditions may have been, a desert land to the south so distant from anything else and devoid of any life, was a place to e feared. The Gerudo Desert, a barren wasteland is filled with dunes and mountainous caverns filling the void and possibly the only decoration. These strange and often dangerous Gerudo inhabit the stretches of the deserts that almost no one could make a home of. These Gerudo are very different from their co-inhabitants in regards to their culture and society, likely from their societies evolving very independently from one another. They're very much like the Amazonians in which they're a powerfully trained race of women with a man only being born every hundred years. In the middle of the desert lies an impregnable fortress filled with blockhouse made of stone with smaller fortresses, more often than not filled with tents rather than these blockhouses, built throughout their land to protect themselves from outsiders. They're suspicious of everyone, especially that of the Hylians as they consider their gender roles between men and women profane, and should never be crossed. If done so, it's to be expected that one would never see the light of day again.

Amongst the dunes of the desert is a blonde haired Hylian man and pointed ears like that of an elf dressed in a brown tunic and white tights. He kneels before Nabooru, a beautiful woman of dark tanned skin, golden eyes, and flowing red hair – all common features of their proud race – dressed in a pink silk fitted crop top and pink silk harem pants combined with leather bound boots. Upon her forearms glisten silver vambraces and attached to her back are two crisscrossed scimitars. Women like Nabooru stand about her, save for their clothing pink and their vambraces worn. They wield glaive like weapons, holding them proudly as they watch Nabooru remove one of her scimitars from its sheath to kill the man before her.

Hidden amongst these women is a tall dark haired man named Ganondorf with dark tanned skin, strong features, and intense green eyes. He can be seen to be lean underneath his loose dark blue sleeveless top. His harem pants like the women he's surrounded by but is a dark blue instead. It's tied at the waist by a red scarf. His features are encased in a white. He's out of place and it's not because of his gender. He's surrounded by darkness and many of the women who frame him have put a fair distance between themselves and this darkened man. Ganondorf turns away from the beheading of the man, grimacing and his lips pursing. As he turns, and like that of the impish creature in Ordon Forest, a trio of triangles appears on his hand except the left triangle reveals itself to be brighter and more powerful than others.

The last race the goddess created were the ruling race of the Hylian's that lived within the walls of Hyrule Village in the central plains of Hyrule Field, building a castle of beauty and markets of wonder. Within the walls of the well-guarded village in the foreground of a proud white castle tipped with glistening gold roves, is the thriving village. It's market day and people are selling their goods in exchange for a variety of different coloured currency called rupees. Green being the smallest amount of currency that could be exchanged followed by blue at five, red at twenty, and purple at fifty with the rarer currencies exchanged being that of orange at a hundred, silver at two-hundred, and gold at three hundred. These high currencies could be seen exchanged at the blacksmiths for pieces of armour and weapons at the higher end clothing boutiques.

Amongst these villagers is Princess Zelda, a blonde woman of striking features and sapphire blue eyes. Although she doesn't look regal, some of her movements including how she holds herself, shows so. A long black cloak covers her silk dress of white, pink, and lavender, embellished with the Royal Family's crest and long styled hair covered by the hood of her cloak. The ornate earrings that dangle from her earlobes have been replaced with small pearl studs. She watches her world around her with a keen eye, taking in a world she hardly interacts with with interest.

Following Princess Zelda is an African woman with platinum blonde hair tied into a braid named Impa. She's dressed in golden silver armour with purple skin-tight yet breathable material stretching over her well-toned body. Her leather boots don't make a sound on the stone beneath feet. She represents the last of her race, the Sheik, who were killed in the civil war helping defend the Hylian a long time before this unsteady peace. Even though she looked no older than forty, her age extended way beyond that. The singular eye embellished on the front of her uniform with a sole tear symbolized the lost her people had suffered. Impa watches Princess Zelda move for one of the fruit stalls where she picks up an apple from amongst those displayed. In doing so, she reveals the trio of triangles upon her hand that shines with the last remaining triangle to be highlighted at the top, one of great wisdom. Paying for the apple, she continues amongst the villages.

Before vacating their creation, Din, Farore, and Nayru, create the Temple of Time in a well-hidden location in the forest. The Temple of Time is a shining temple with stained glass windows and behind the heavy stone doors with an engraving of a sun with its rays extending to the edges of the doors, is a sword embedded in a stone upon a small platform. A stream of light comes from a stained glass window above accentuates the sword. Its hilt is a royal purple and beautifully made. Imprinted in the hilt are three triangles designed into a larger triangle as seen on Princess Zelda, Ganondorf, and the impish creature in the Ordon Forest. This is the Triforce, representing each quality of the goddesses – power, the triangle on the top; wisdom, the triangle on the left; and courage, the triangle on the far right. Whoever is able to draw this sword would have the power of the goddesses, and slay the evil it's set against but if the sword is touched without perfect balance the Triforce splits into three. The one who touches it is left with the one that strongly represents them and to obtain its true power, the two missing pieces must be acquired.

Stepping into this chamber of the temple is a young man, named Link, of no more than seventeen with mousy blonde short hair, sparkling blue eyes, and of a medium build. His pointed elf ears poke out from his floppy green witches hat that covers the majority of his hair without his fringe protruding out from underneath. He wears a green tunic, a belt around his waist, and white breeches finished off with well-worn brown boots. He comes to a halt at the bottom of the platform, his eyes flashing purple in the flicker of his fairy accompaniment – Navi. The sword mesmerises Link, its true power revealing itself to him from the sacred realm.

This is when his eyes refocus to an ancient sonnet inscribed on the wall beyond the sword, a sonnet that predicted the downfall of the land. Blocking part of this sonnet is Ganondorf, except now he looks completely changed. He's now a powerfully built man, standing at seven and a half feet tall, with flaming red hair and skin that appears to be olive green when he moves closer to the light. Also highlighted in the small amount of light filling the room in his now entirely red eyes that bore into Link's soul. Black shoulder armour decorates his powerfully built shoulders and falling from his shoulders is a red flowing cape. He wears dark green cargo pants with red and black lining, with grey shin armour and boots lined with white fur. His chest is covered with dark grey armour with white-gold lining, his dark gauntlets encompass his forearms and fingerless leather gloves. His head brooch is stylised with lines reaching to the back of his head, resembling a crown, and his flaming red hair pushed back underneath this crown. Link stiffens at the sight of his opponent, whose cackling laugh echo's throughout the chamber.


	2. Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE.

"In a realm beyond sight, the sky shines gold not blue. There, the Triforce's might makes mortal dreams come true."

At the birth of a nation, there was nothing but desert they'd known for the last two hundred and fifty years. An eternal sunshine reigned supreme for the majority of the year with a single hour of blissful darkness where the scorching heat refused to cook anyone live. However, these singular hours of darkness provided a training ground for the Gerudo warriors aptly named the Ghazi and with those of more of a specific role in guarding their borders named Akritai. Both the Ghazi and the Akritai develop a superior sense of sight, often seen to have shawls covering their eyes while on duty during the day to protect their eyes from overexposure to the light and a taking a potion created by the royal physicians to number their sense of sight during these months. And like their development of their sight for the darker hours, their hearing is impeccable and can hear the most specific of movements amongst the rustling movements amongst the rustling travels of the sand.

Apart from these noble warriors, specifically the border warriors Akritai, is Nabooru, a graceful beauty, but not someone to be crossed. She kneels on a white soft plush cushion along with seven other males in a circle around a small fire that make up the Gerudo Council, dressed in red robes and hands linked in their sleeves before them. Nabooru is the only female amongst them, dressed in a chiffon dress hanging over one shoulder of a deep maroon colour. Her dress is folded neatly underneath her and covering her sandals that crisscrossed over her legs until her knees.

The Gerudo Council find themselves in a sacred temple hidden in the forbidden and Haunted Wasteland where the entrance of the temple remained secret. It could only be found by those who knew where to look, and during the hour of night out of each day. All in all, a singular lamp could be found in the darkness for those of a keener eye to be guided to. Upon reaching this lamp, as Nabooru had done, a soft prayer was to be spoken into the wind to reveal a large statue of a woman with her legs crossed over one another and her hands facing upwards on knees. In each hand, a large flame would be ignited upon the speaking of the prayer and also to signify someone was in the temple.

There's a small indent into the sand where a set of stairs lead into the temple, tall Greek columns disappear into the darkened roof above with large fires ignited from torches hanging from above. At the head of the temple, on a small dias, is a small pearl bowl filled with charcoal and a soft fire only an ignition away from being set alight with a few sticks of incense burning within. Before the dias is a red cushion to make prayer more comfortable.

Silence fills the temple, not a single movement made or word spoken, and in the silence, as the fire between them dies down into nothing, one by one, the council members disappear along with their cushions until only Nabooru remained. With an elongated sigh, she stands from the cushion that disappears as soon as she stands, and moves for the dias to kneel before it instead. She lights another stick of incense to set into the bowl. Closing her eyes, she let cinamon smell of the incense overwhelm her, remembering back to a time when her people were united instead of scattered and fragmented.

In a vision in her mind, she remembered as a child running through their capital of Aasera to chase after her friend who was only a few steps ahead. Behind them they waved material imprinted with the symbol of their people. Their laughs echoed through her mind with the warm sun kissing her skin. The market around her was thriving with a celebration of the day where the Goddess of Sand liberated them from the control of the Hylians. Nabooru follows her friend into the city square to be faced with hundreds of women surrounding a large group dancing to the music provided. She manages to squeeze her way through the crowd along with her friend to stand on the edge of the crowd to watch the dancers, clapping along to the music as she shares a blissful look with her friend.

Nabooru is brought back into her present when two tiny ancient witches dressed in black robes with white trim magically appearing in the middle of the temple before the fire. Their hooked noses extend long before them and their eyes larger than life with tiny black pupils. They're identical, save for the ruby and sapphire embedded into their foreheads that identified them from each other their jewels are connected to a headdress that extends over their grey hair styled so it stuck out straight behind them.

"Good morning," Nabooru says without even needing to open her eyes and being able to sense that she now had company. "I was wondering when you two would appear."

The twins share a concerned look before they return their gazes to Nabooru. Koume, the witch with the sapphire embedded into her forehead, replies, "You know that it was made law by the council that no woman could ever take the throne. You are but a steward, and the longest living one at that."

"Are you mocking me?" Nabooru said, opening her eyes but not turning to face them.

"You're still young, even at two hundred and fifty," Koume spoke playfully.

"And ever since I was ten years old, we've been left without a leader," Nabooru said. "One could say I was a curse."

"We had a leader," Kotake said, moving across the temple to kneel next to Nabooru with a cushion appearing just as her knees were about to hit the stone floor. "But he was killed in the civil war fifty years into his life. So young. A hundred years later and another male was born but died in infancy, unfortunately born in darkness."

"Speaking of which," Nabooru mentions. "Darkness is soon to us and we are due for another heir."

"Why can't we just break the rules for once and—" Koume started but was silenced by a quick flick of Kotake's wrist. Koume grips onto her throat, struggling to breathe.

Kotake lets Koume's struggle continue until her sister's face turns purple before she lets go of her throat. Koume coughs and splutters, regaining her breath. Kotake says, "You're so selfish."

"And we shall surely be the death of each other," Koume mutters as she straightens herself out.

Nabooru stands to her feet and on her way from the temple, she says, "If you want me, you know where to look."

Koume turns to watch Naboru disappear from the temple and leaving her alone with her sister. She looks back to Kotake with a raised eyebrow. She scuttles up to the dias and takes Nabooru's cushion, waving her hand over the pearl bowl of charcoal and as soon as she does, an ear-piercing scream of a woman echoes through the temple. Kotake leans into the pearl bowl to see a figure of a woman made out of the pieces of charcoal holding her belly as she screams. Another woman forms out of the charcoal and goes to the first woman to help calm her, ease her pain, but nothing seams to work, and the screaming continues.

Reaching out to her sister, Kotake squeezes Koume's hand almost too hard that Koume adds to the screams that emanate from the bowl. Kotake says, "This news has come earlier than expected…"

"Have you forgotten the length of time it takes to create a child?" Koume retorts as the figure in the bowl disappears back into the charcoal. "And it's not exactly something of an immaculate conception."

"Who could ever be the father?" Kotake wonders as she begins to walk through the temple. "At least with the last pregnancy, we still had the Hylian prisoner."

"Shame we killed him afterwards, he was quite nice on the eyes," giggled Koume, swinging around to face her sister.

"In your old age, you never cease to amaze me," Kotake said and with a swirl of robes, she disappears into thin air.

Koume goes to where her sister disappears and looks up into the endless darkness above. Under her breath, she mutters, "This is our last chance, our only hope. Please at least survive childbirth."

* * *

Nabooru holds a shawl tightly about her shoulders and pulling apart of it over her mouth and nose to protect herself from the soft desert storm flowing through the darkness. Her long dress pulled back behind her, almost pulling her in a direction she wasn't headed. Spotting the burning torches on tall towers surrounding the capital Aasera, she speeds up her pace and pushes herself into a jog and reaches the wall with a heavy breath. She looks up to one of the towers to spot one of the Ghazi looking down at her, giving Nabooru a curt nod.

She pushes her hand forward where a magical invisible force field rippled at her touch. The further she moved through the force field, the more of her body disappeared through onto the other side. In a matter of moments, she had completely disappeared into the city of Aasera and leaving behind a vacantly windy desert. On the other side, however, the city stood strong and protected. The streets were easily navigable, all symmetrically the same and decorated with blockhouses with the city square just to the south of the city and her home in the barrack headquarters, with smaller factions scattered evenly across the city, lying closer to the centre of the city.

Fleeing through the empty streets where the women of the city had lit candles within their homes, visible through the curtains that covered their windows, Nabooru slips back into the barracks and easily navigates her way back to her decently sized room barely decorated save for the bed in the centre of the room with sheets scattered across the bed and her clothes pocking out from a chest against the wall. She strips off her ceremonial dress and throws it amongst the other clothes of the chest.

Nabooru fishes out a loose crop top and loose harem pants both in a dark maroon before shuffling across the room to the door to the balcony that was covered with a loose see through white sheet. Stepping out onto the balcony, she hoists herself onto the ledge, swinging her legs over the edge and watching the city in its hour of darkness. She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes, enjoying the uninterrupted silence…that never seemed to last for long.

A tightening feeling in her chest grips her by surprise. She rests a flat hand upon her chest, her breath becoming short and staggered. She attempted to force herself to calm down but it took her way too long for her to do so. Nabooru pulls herself back into her room, pulling the sliding doors hiding in the doorframe shut, before collapsing to her knees at the end of her bed.

She grips onto the sheets of her bed in attempts to release the pain and eventually, she was released from the momentary pain. Looking above her, she muttered, "By the goddess…it may be time."

* * *

Yvetta, a tanned woman that looks no older than forty, stands underneath the shade of her stall in Aasera's square, selling her wares of herbs and potions. She's a healer and one whose experienced and seen much in her many years of life. If those who bought from her stall guessed her correct age, in which no one had managed to do so far, she would sell the customer a small collection of her wares and her services free for a week and regular check ins for half of the price she would usually charge. Even had guess close to her true age, she would half the price on the items the customer bought.

Some women dip in and out of the stalls but otherwise the square is practically empty. The sun sends a soft glow over the street filled with stalls and various homes in the stone blockhouses. Yvvetta packs some herbs into a piece of pink silk ands hands them to a customer waiting at the stall and in exchange for the herbs, the customer hands Yvetta half of the money she owed. The customer nods with a smile as she leaves Yvetta's stall and the city square.

Hidden amongst the stalls, watching Yvetta, is Nabooru. She watched her interaction with the customer before gaining a clearer look of Yvetta. Beside her, leaning against the wall of a blockhouse, is Koume looking at her nails this way and that, seeing if they live up to her standards of cleaning.

"Who is she?" Nabooru asks, not taking her eyes from Yvetta.

"Yvetta Dragmire," Koume replied.

"And she was in the vision you saw in the charcoal?"

"She sure is."

"What's so special about her?"

"She's related to one of the founding Gerudo families."

"I thought the Dragmire line died out."

"She's the last," Koume sighed, pulling Nabooru from her position to face her. "And you need to keep an eye on her."

"How could she be the one in the charcoal vision when she's not even pregnant," Nabooru demanded, her height a clear dominating factor when dealing with either Koume or Kotake.

"The charcoal vision doesn't always mean what we see is the current state of events," Koume returned. "Just keep an eye on her otherwise you'll regret the day you disobeyed our orders."


	3. Chapter Two

**CHAPTER 2.**

Yvetta slings a handmade leather satchel over her shoulder, making it comfortable on her shoulder despite the heavy contents within. She steps out from behind her stall and holds a hand up in goodbye to a stall owner beside her own. The stall owner holds up a hand in goodbye also as Yvetta heads from the square for the western exit. She looks up to the sky, watching the midnight sun shine steadily above her and totally unmoving. Pushing her hair back off her head, she continues down the silent street, her patting feet against the stone the only soft sound. When she reaches the exit does she look up to the watchtower and holds up the palm of her hand to the Ghazia above. In her hand, from her satchel, she holds a small bronze amulet a moment before she slips it back into the satchel. With the permission to leave the city, she slips through the invisible barrier and into the desert.

Stepping forth into the desert and as she slips her amulet back into her bag, she pulls out a shawl to cover her hair, nose, and mouth from the harsh sun and sting of the whipping sand. As she walked through the desert, the harsh sun that warmed her on her journey began to disappear over the edge of the desert to reveal a darkened and haunted wasteland that she'd entered only moments before. Yvetta paused a moment, pulling her shawl around her for warmth, and searched frantically for the singular light that signified the sacred Gerudo temple.

Unable to spot what she was looking for, she continued forward in her search, her eyes rapidly moving from side to side in search of the lamp. She lets out an annoyed breath in her search, taking up the precious hour of darkness to visit the temple to pray. She'd almost given up her search, wasting about half of the precious time she had, when she spotted something glistening in the distance. Her heart shot into her throat as she raced towards the light and muttered a soft prayer underneath her haggard breath to reveal the statue of their Goddess of Sand.

Thankful to have found what she was looking for, Yvetta heads down the steps into the temple. The moment she stepped into the temple, the torches were immediately lit and guided her towards the centre of the temple where she knelt. A cushion appeared before her knees before they hit the stone floor. She sets her satchel on the ground beside her, removes her shawl from her shoulders and sets it atop the satchel. She closes her eyes a moment and an undecipherable murmur echoing from her lips. Completing her prayer, Yvetta bends down from her waist, holding her position, before pulling herself back up into a kneeling position.

From amongst the corners of darkness of the temple not lit by the torches hides Kotake with her sister, Koume, appearing in the darkness behind her in a momentary shift in the blackness. The only signifying factor of their presence is the brief flash of their jewels on their forehead. They watch her slip back onto her feet and moves towards the dias ahead of her where she kneels before it to light a stick of incense. The moment she sets the stick of incense into the charcoal at the base of the pearl bowl, she grips onto stomach when she feels a shoot of pain. Looking up to the darkened heavens, she muttered, "This is a sign, isn't it?"

Yvetta looks down to her hand on her stomach, pressing it further against her stomach as the pain recedes, but the sudden sensation she felt never left her. She removes her hand from her stomach to see it shaking. Clenching it into a fist, Yvetta leaves the temple and picks up her satchel on her way. The sisters watching her move forward in the darkness and into the centre of the temple where Yvetta once knelt.

Kotake mutters, to the heavens above, "By the goddess."

"Don't act so surprised, Kotake," Koume returns. "We've been waiting for this moment for nearly two hundred years and now that the moment's finally here, you've got a wild sense of fear in you."

"We've wasted enough time waiting and letting everyone else but us take control of the future of our people," Kotake says, turning to her sister. "This is our chance."

"Please don't tell me your saying what I think you're saying," Koume says fearfully.

"We're already keeping an eye on him," Kotake says. "So as soon as he's born, we need to kidnap the child."

"You're did say what I think you're saying," Koume sighed loudly, looking to the heavens. "Dear goddess, save my sisters mind from insanity."

"Don't act like I'm crazy, you old witch!" Kotake spat, hitting her sister in the arm.

"You are what you say!"

"That's not how the saying goes!"

* * *

An older woman with greying hair that doesn't look her age stands on the edge of a small village made out of tents. She searches the flowing dunes of the desert surrounding them for someone or something amongst her surroundings. Instead, it remains empty and barren as she's unable to find what she's looking for. This woman, Diyaa, moves around the edge of the camp to continue her search from another angle. She holds a glaive that she plants before her in the sand every time she takes a step. Her silver vambraces shine in the midnight sun, clearly taking pride in her weapons and armour.

She circles the camp, taking nearly two hours to complete her search, passing other members of their village watch in her search, and returns to her original position. When she did return to her position, however, did she spot Yvetta in the distance. She stiffens at the sight, clicks her fingers, and hurries into the desert. The moment she leaves her position, another villager appeared to take her place.

Yvetta and Diyaa meet half way and when they reach each other, Yvetta looks to Diyaa in annoyance. She is clearly not as worn down or hurt like Diyaa had thought in the time she had waited for her close friend. Yvetta makes the first step back to the village, almost leaving Diyaa behind until she moves after her. When Diyaa catches up with Yvetta, does Yvetta say, "Sorry I'm late."

"Where were you?" Diyaa demand, checking her anger when for the next words she spoke. "Were you at the temple again?" When Yvetta doesn't answer does Diyaa gain a confirmation of where Yvetta had been, hours after the closing of her stall. "What do you even pray for?"

"I pray for guidance and for some glint of our future," Yvetta replies. "I am faithful to our Goddess, unlike some."

"And what has she done for us lately, huh?' Diyaa retorts. "I don't know why you bother."

"I don't know why you don't," Yvetta says.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Diyaa returns as they finally reach the camp and make their way towards their shared tent.

The majority of the tent is filled with medicinal equipment neatly stored away around Yvettas bed along with jars of herbs and containers of tonics. Yvetta heads to the mattress on the floor where she places her satchel on the bed before her as she kneels down. She removes her shawl, folding it perfectly to place in the corner of her mattress, before she slowly unpacked her bag. She sets out the unsold items from the market into a wicker basket with some other items that she hadn't taken with her that morning. Feeling Diyaa's eyes watching her from the entrance to their tent, Yvetta sets her satchel to the side and turns to face her friend.

Diyaa took her time in speaking – "You're hiding something from me."

"I felt something at the temple," Yvetta replied, unsure of how she should approach telling her unbelieving friend. "It was a prediction for the future."

"And I'm guessing you haven't felt something like this before, am I correct?" Diyaa said, finally making a move to set her glaive on her bed.

"Not like this," Yvetta confessed as Diyaa kneeled before her and studied her friend carefully.

"What did you feel?" Diyaa asked, a sparkle in her eye flashing in the darkened tent.

Yvetta rested her hand upon her stomach, the tight feeling that she remembered from the temple combing back to her the moment she rested her hand there. And without a word, Diyaa knew what Yvetta had felt at the temple, the prediction that had been given to her. Diyaa's eyes widened in surprise, in shock, and reached out to her friend to place her hand upon Yvetta's stomach. Although she felt nothing physically, she could still feel something had changed about Yvetta's aura.

Removing her hand, Diyaa cast her eyes down and let out a long breath. She said, "I haven't heard any reports of any Hylians coming into our lands."

"Who says they have to be Hylian?" Yvetta questioned, her hands falling to her lap.

"A male person of some sort," Diyaa said. "Besides, I don't see you falling pregnant to a _Zora_. Imagine having a fish for a son." She gives a short laugh and smiling at her friend. "Who'd ever thought you'd be the one to keep us alive and bring hope back to our people?"

"You do know about my line, don't you?" Yvetta said and Diyaa nods in acknowledgment. "Like you said, I'd never thought it'd be me. I'd always thought it'd be my sister but after she died in the wars…I'd blocked the thought out of my mind, especially since the last woman who gave birth to our supposed heir died in childbirth. I didn't want to encourage the thought of being that person."

"I can understand that you would be scared," Diyaa said, attempting to comfort Yvetta. "But it was just a feeling that might not even come true."

"It certainly didn't feel like that," Yvetta returned.

"Just think of it like this," Diyaa said, taking Yvetta's hands and squeezing them. "When the time does come, if it comes, you'd be the greatest mother of anyone I know. There's a reason why the Goddess has chosen you."

"I thought you didn't believe in the Goddess?" Yvetta smiled, embracing her friend fearfully.

Breaking them apart is another member of their village, a guard, breathing heavily and sweat lining her brow. Diyaa immediately stands to her feet and goes to the woman with a concerned look. The guard says, "Someone's been spotted in the desert. An outcast. And he's not one of us."

"Did you get a glimpse of what people he belongs to?" Diyaa asks after she shares a look with Yvetta.

"No, sir," the guard replies.

It's Yvetta who speaks next, "Is he injured?"

"We couldn't tell," the guard replies. "Three of the guard have already left to fetch the man as he collapsed as soon as he ran into our shields."

"Bring him here as soon as he arrives," Yvetta says, starting to prepare her bed for the oncoming visitor.

"Yvetta—" Diyaa tried to argue but Yvetta was having none of it.

"Everyone deserves to be looked at," Yvetta argues, momentarily glancing to Diyaa in her preparations. "Besides, he might have some useful information that our stewards might like."

"No one has seen those witches since the last male was born," Diyaa remembers. "What makes you think they'll reveal themselves now after so long?"

"We have a male in our midst, don't we?" Yvetta said. "It would be a shame for them to miss out on something they've been waiting for more desperately than any of us combined."

With a sigh and pursed lips, Diyaa nods and turns to the guard waiting at the door, "Bring him here as soon as he arrives."

The guard disappears from their shared tent as Diyaa arms herself with her glaive and is about to leave the tent when she looks back to Yvetta swiftly preparing for the oncoming outcast. Knowing she'd be unable to talk her friend out of accepting this outcast, knowing that he should've been killed on sight, Diyaa slips from the tent and out into the bustling village. Everyone had awoken and were eager to see the approaching man.

Diyaa followed the crowd to the other side of the village and steps out before them. The three guards that had been sent out to retrieve the man were closer now and had travelled fast to return to camp. Diyaa steps out to meet them to catch a glimpse of the man – his skin was white as snow and because of his light complexion, had burned significantly under the burning sun her people had become used to. He had sandy blonde shoulder length hair, eyebrows that were a shade darker than his hair colour, and a light sprinkling of a beard. He was definitely dehydrated, his lips cracked and seeping blood, and was barely breathing. The humid air must've been to thick for his lungs to fully intake, especially in his weakened state.

She guided them to the tent she shared with Yvetta and the village followed them. She lifted up the flap of the tent to help them get in and glared at the village that had followed them back into their own quarters. Once the village had disappeared from the door of their tent did Diyaa re-enter her living quarters. There, she saw the three guards setting the man on Yvetta's bed with a humph. She moved quickly for the guards and assigned two of them to keep guard by the door and the remaining guard to return to her duty.

Yvetta moved quickly about the man, removing his clothing and folding them into piles at the end of the bed. Diyaa moves towards the bed, having not seen a man since the wars. She couldn't help but admit that she was slightly curious yet disgusted at the same time. She kneels at the end of the bed by Yvetta's equipment and helped her with whatever she asked.

"Is he alive?" Diyaa said, handing Yvetta the salve she requested.

"Barely," Yvetta replied as she treated the man's burns. "He's extremely dehydrated and I knew I had made those barriers to strong against unwanted souls."

"If those shields weren't at the strength they were, you might as well get rid of them," Diyaa said, finding a carved wooden bowl to fill with water and returning to Yvetta's side.

"I know they're to protect us from our own kind too, but that doesn't mean we have to almost kill anyone who comes close," Yvetta argued. "But it's probably not wise to have this argument right now."

Diyaa accepts the salve Yvetta returns to her as she picks up the wooden bowl of water Diyaa had poured and shifted towards the head of the man she recognised as Hylian. She lifted his head with her hand and encouraged him to drink from the bowl as she whispered, "Things are moving more quickly than I ever expected them too."


	4. Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

Yvetta is kneeling down at the end of her bed where the Hylian rests with a mortar and pestle in her hands, crushing some leaves from her collection that creates a milky paste. A singular witchlight hovers at the roof of the tent, settling a soft glow upon anything it touches below. Yvetta looks to the Hylian when he makes a noise, smiling at him as he tries to pull himself up into a sitting position, the sheet falling of his bare chest. Setting down the mortar and pestle, she goes to kneel beside him to guide him back down on his back. She shakes her head when he tries to get back up.

"How long have I been out for?" The Hylian asks.

"A day," Yvetta says, her Hylian broken and fragmented. "You're lucky you were spotted while I was at camp."

"Why's that?"

"No respect for your people."

"But there's always one," he says with a sigh.

"I like to treat those how I like to be treated."

"You're kind aren't exactly friendly."

"My kind?" Yvetta speaks with surprise. "Now you're sounding like our elders." Yvetta moves back to the end of the bed and continues to mix the paste she had created, adding a sprinkle of Calendula to the mix before setting down the pestle upon a piece of fabric she stretched out before her. "This may sting when I apply it."

She returns to his side and begins to apply the paste upon his wounds. He cringes the moment her fingers touch his skin, saying, "Ahh, your hands are cold."

"And that's the thing that hurt you," she snorts, continuing to apply the paste.

Making another small noise, the Hylian looks to her to say, "Where'd you learn all of this?"

Yvetta finishes attending to the visible wounds on his chest to shift the sheet that covered the bottom half of his body. He reaches out to stop her from moving the sheet any further and she quickly knocks away his hand, shifting it only slight to reveal a flat arrowhead embedded in his thigh. Without looking back to him, she presses one hand over the other to place over his wound.

The moment her skin touched his, the arrowhead shifts underneath her faintly glowing fingers. Unlike his reaction in the treatment of his wounds moments earlier, he's remarkably calm and unmoving, and he notices this. The Hylian hoists himself onto his elbows to watch Yvetta complete her work. He says, "You never answered my question."

Without a drop of blood escaping the wound, Yvetta slips the arrowhead from where it was embedded in his thigh and goes to set it on the material she lay out on the end of the bed when the Hylian stops her by laying a hand upon her wrist. He motions for her to give him the arrowhead and she obliges. He shifts to where his mended clothing lay folded with a small piece of thread wrapped into a necklace lies with two curved teeth were attached. He forces a hole into the end of the arrowhead to hang it between the curved teeth.

She takes the necklace from him when he offers it to her. A small smile plays across her lips as she smudges some of his blood off the arrowhead. As she smudges the blood away, the symbol of her people is burned into the arrowhead and it was only know that she noticed the pure shining silver of the weapon that injured the Hylian. Yvetta holds the necklace out to him but he refuses to take it, taking her hand and closing it over his necklace.

"It seems you have a question or two unanswered as well, Hylian," Yvetta muttered in her natural tounge.

The one word he recognised was that of his heritage, and he questioned it, "What was it about my people? Don't make me doubt you…"

"That sounded as if you were asking my name."

"And what if I was?"

"Would it be such a shame to put a name to a pretty face?"

With a scowl, Yvetta returns the necklace to his pile of clothes and swiftly spreads some of the salve she created across his thigh wound before covering his body with her sheet. The Hylian remains on his elbows and watches her begin to gather her belongings into a bag she created out of the material she'd set out. She ties the top of the makeshift bag into a not and stands to her feet.

The Hylian knew what she was about to ask of him before she even opened her mouth and lies back down into the bed. With this, Yvetta moves from the room with the makeshift bag gathered in her clutches. The Hylian looks to his folded clothes where the necklace lies. He reaches out to it and holds the arrowhead, running his fingers over the decoration Yvetta had added.

As he let his fingers run over the embellishment, an echo of laughing children flitters across his mind, a memory of a time that seemed so far away. This memory is cut short but the disturbing presence of Diyaa standing at the entrance, holding open the tent flap as she enters to reveal the hour of darkness outside. She holds her glaive in her hand, the blade at the end an imposing force in his weakened state.

Before she fully enters, Diyaa embeds her glaive into the sand so it stands up straight just outside of the tent by one of the two guards standing to attention at the appearance of their leader. She lets the tent flap shuts behind her as she steps into her former residence and stands in the middle of the room, watching over him as he slips the necklace underneath the sheet of the bed.

Diyaa sees this and leans down to snatch the necklace from his grip and he lets her. She shifts the necklace in her fingers so that the curved teeth and the arrowhead sat comfortably in the palm of her hands, recognising the Gerudo symbol. She looks between the Hylian and the arrowhead, about to speak when Yvetta returned with the makeshift bag still in her grasp.

"Out."

And with that, Diyaa steps from the tent and shoves the necklace into Yvetta's before she leaves. Yvetta sets down her makeshift bag at the end of the bed and ties the necklace around her neck. This makes the Hylian smile, but only briefly, as he notices the scars on her bare forearms that continued onto her back. Yvetta felt him watching and reaches amongst her belongings for her shawl to wrap around her.

"What's with the single hour of darkness?" he asks, watching Yvetta unfold the makeshift bag to reveal the cleaned materials she'd used to treat him.

"To compensate for the twenty-three hours of daylight we have to suffer with," Yvetta replies without a thought.

"I won't ever get a straight answer out of you, will I?" the Hylian speaks, seeing her response in the shake of her head. "My name is—"

"Don't tell me," Yvetta says, pausing her in her unpacking but not looking at him. "Attachment isn't something I'm looking for."

The Hylian gives a small laugh with a laugh to accompany it, saying, "Then why are you wearing the necklace?" In attempts to distract herself, she continues to unpack her belongings and returned them to their place at the end of her bed. "How do you know my language? With our people hating each other…"

"I spend a lot of time studying," Yvetta reveals.

"That doesn't explain anything."

With a sigh, Yvetta sets the rest of her cleaned belongings aside to pack up later and goes to the Hylian's side. She says, "No one knows of my knowledge of the language save for those in my family. It's passed down from mother to daughter."

"Were you all healers?"

"Yes, in one way or another. We were war doctors, and when there wasn't a war to be fought to defend our land that we had been exiled to, we watched the borders and defended out cities. We were masters of the sword and sorcery."

"Magic?"

"A name given to an undiluted source of power in children stories," she says and rests a hand on where she'd removed the arrowhead. "We haven't needed that kind of power in years so there's only two women of the same face who can tap into it. I know the basics of healing that links to a little manipulation of the flesh to speed up the healing and a limited period of pain removal."

"We could use someone like you back at home."

Yvetta snorts and shakes her head, saying, "That's the last place I'd ever see myself going."

"Probably for the best," the Hylian laughs. "My partner wouldn't be to happy to see you."

"You have a family?"

"We are with a child and she wasn't too happy when I joined the Royal Hylian Forces."

"Then what made you wonder all the way out here?"

"I was separated from my unit on a border patrol and _your_ people attacked us," the Hylian muttered softly. "I was weak. Ran and fled."

"We are all allowed at least a moment when our guards are dropped," Yvetta muttered just as quietly, her fingers unconsciously going to the necklace she now wore. Her eyes drifted off into a darkened corner of the tent. "I don't know who you are but…"

"I am what you need," the Hylian finished.

"I don't need anyone," Yvetta returns in frustration at herself for letting herself open up to him.

Sitting in the middle of her bedroom on her bed with her legs crossed and hands upon her knees is Nabooru. Her long hair has been tied up into a bun on top of her head and her skin glistens with sweat. The sky still remains in its darkened state. She enjoys her brief peaceful moment of silence when she picks up on a movement down the hall. Her eyes roll as she stretches herself out to stand up on her bed, her joints cracking as she stretches out.

When she turns for her door, a messenger stands there with the nose down covered in a purple silk. She holds a letter with the Gerudo seal locking it tight. She bows her head and steps into the room to hand Nabooru the letter before disappearing as quickly as she came. Nabooru opens up the letter and as soon as she starts reading, she lowers herself back onto the bed. A notable part of the letter is the "K&K" it's signed with.

Nabooru's eyes look out to the night sky beyond the silk covered window and says, "May the way of the hero lead to the Triforce."


End file.
